


Sober

by thiswillendinflames



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Abusive Parents, Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Depression, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, POV Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-01-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:20:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22360987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thiswillendinflames/pseuds/thiswillendinflames
Summary: At his aunt’s request, Baz is trying to fight against his addictions and depression. He takes pills, goes to therapy and once a week attends to a group meeting, where people talk about their lives and traumas.Even though, he thinks nothing will help him, Baz keeps going into the meetings to leave Fiona happy, and also to keep seeing the beautiful men with blue eyes.
Relationships: Fiona Pitch & Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 4
Kudos: 55





	Sober

**Author's Note:**

> This could be triggering for some people, so please, if you think you could be one of these people, don't read.  
> I thought about this story while I was listening to 'Sober' from Demi Lovato and got inspired.  
> As I put on the tags, Baz has depression and he has a lot of depressive thoughts, and also there is mention of suicide and suicide attempts, so again, if you think it's triggering to you, go read another thing.  
> To everyone else, I hope you like the story.

Once again I don’t know what I’m doing here. I only came here for the first time because Fiona had asked, and she was so worried about me that I just accepted. I was feeling so much pity for myself that I agree that I needed help. That maybe talking to someone, would help. It could help. But maybe I’m beyond help.

I never thought too much of how everything started, of why it started. I mean I know how it started, but I don’t know where exactly was my mind when I decided to turn my life and the lives of everyone around me, a living hell.

Many will say that this is what fame does with you. That it goes straight to your head and changes you completely. I know it’s not true, not to everyone at least, but to me it was. My problems didn't start with fame, but it certainly got worse with it.

I never was a normal kid. I never was a normal person. I always felt different, and after my mother’s death, everything got worse. And things didn't turn out better when I got my first role as the main character of a big movie, even though it was years after. The money and fame didn't fix the problems that were already inside my head and my life.

If anything, it really made it worse. Give money and fame to a troubled fourteen years old kid to see what happens. To me what happened was a path filled with wrong people, an abusive relationship, alcohol, and rehabs. Four times in total, and not more because the people around me took long enough to notice that something was wrong.

The last one was ten months ago. I remember that on the last day, Fiona came, because it was always her, with a birthday cake (it was my 24th birthday) and said that I was clear to leave. That I could go back to my life, a normal one - not the one who dragged me there - but only if I agreed in going to this therapy group, that I was now.

I wrinkled my nose when she said, but I agreed because I wanted to leave that place. I thought she would forget, but she drove me to this same old building to hear other people’s problems. To feel inspired in telling what happened to me, to share my pain, and see if someone else could have empathy if someone else would have the same problems.

But I never said a word. I never had the courage and, honestly, I don’t have to tell. Even though it is some kind of anonymous group where no one tells their names, I didn't have to tell mine for them to know who I was and why I was here. The shame of my story and my downfall was written all over the internet and the magazines, they ruined my career for good and made sure to show to everyone who I was. Truly.

I try to concentrate on someone else’s problems instead of mine today. I do listen to them sometimes. In others, I just come to think and to hear the cruel things inside my head. But today, I listened. Or I try to.

A woman is speaking. She is crying and the man beside her puts his hand on her shoulder and encourages her to finish her story. She must be around her forties, but she has had depression since earlier days. She says that she was diagnosed with depression when she was a teenager. She had been under control for years, she was living a happy life, a magical one (by her words) until her teenage daughter killed herself.

It’s hard to keep my emotions to myself. To see the suffering in her eyes and the way she was choking with her words. It was her first day here. Her therapist advised her to come, to share her pain with more people. She keeps talking about how guilty she was feeling for not recognizing the symptoms of depression in her daughter. For not being able to help.

For feeling guilty because when she was younger she tried to do the same and when she failed she was so mad with her parents (who were the ones who saved her). And now she understood, and that made her feel even worse. She says that it has been eight months since the day, but every new day it gets worse. She keeps saying how much she misses her daughter and how fucking terrible it is when people say that time heals.

I agree with her. It has been sixteen years since my mother’s death and the pain didn't get smaller even a bit. I just miss her every day more. Everything that happened with me always made me consider: what it could have been if she was with me? I just need her so much.

I swallow my tears as the woman finishes her story. Some people are wiping their tears silently. Others are sobbing loudly, probably remembering something in their own lives. There is a terrible silence at the end that makes me want to scream. But then finally, someone speaks.

“Thank you so much for sharing your story with us. I can’t imagine how hard this has been to you, and I don’t have words enough to make it better.” The leader of the group says. “But we can all try to help you somehow, and to show to you that you are not alone.” There are tears in his blue eyes, but his voice is calm and steady. “I hope to see you next week.” He nods to her. “I think we can finish today.” He looks at the group. “Unless someone else wants to say something.” His eyes stop on me, and as hard as it is I look away from his hypnotizing eyes.

I came for the first time to this group because of Fiona. But I kept coming because of him. I even know his name. Not the first one at least. Once, in one of the meetings, someone called him Snow, and that’s all that I know.

“Then, I hope to see you all next week.” He says and people start to stand.

He was not the real leader of the group. The man who was in charge was passing through surgery and he stepped up and became the backup leader. He was already here when I first came, and usually, he just talks to others, barely speaking of himself, so I don’t know why he is here. What his struggles are, and I want to.

I don’t know exactly why or how, but I fell for him. Even though I don’t know his name or anything else, his boring blue eyes and his shiny bronze curls caught me. Once I put my eyes on him I thought that he was the most attractive man I had seen. But as I kept coming, I saw that he was more than just his looks, I saw the way he speaks with others. How he wants to help even when he can’t. How gentle and kind he is with everyone, even me, an asshole. He just seems too good for this shit world.

I’m the first to leave as always. I don’t want to leave any breach for anyone to come and talk to me. Especially him. So, I just walk away and take a cab to my flat, still thinking about why I keep coming there. Thinking that I should just stop, it’s not like it is really helping me anyway. And today was so bad. Hearing that woman talking about her daughter. And suicide.

Luckily, Fiona is not in the flat when I arrive. She left me a note saying that she would come back later. I enjoy the loneliness and the silence to sink in my bathtub. I stay there for some good minutes, trying to stop my negative thoughts. I feel the tears running through my cheeks before I even realize. Not every day I feel like today. Some days are worse than others. Some days even my pills help me.

But I was trying to get better. Not because I thought I deserved it. But because Fiona asked me to. And I didn't want to let her down again. So, I was taking my pills, and seeing a therapist once a week. And going to the group another day in the week.

I can't say I'm doing fine. But I'm a little better than ten months ago. Still, it was hard to keep away the void that I felt constantly, or the sadness that drowned me in the worse moments.

There are only two moments when I don't feel like that. One of these is the moments with Fiona, especially when we got together to watch a movie and eat so much sweet that our teeth hurt. And the other is the day of the therapy group. Not because of the group itself, even though it was nice to her people with close experiences at mine. It was because I got to see Snow.

It sounds so much a cliche, but it's true. He was capable of illuminating the place like he was the sun. Shining and burning me. It was good to see him, but it was terrible to realize that anything could happen between us. Even if he had the least interest in me, he didn't deserve it. He didn't deserve to be with someone one so screwed as me.

I let myself cry with that thought. To feel sorry for me. I want a better life than this one I am having, but I don't know how to have it. How to stop my brain from thinking so much shit? How to make myself feel happy again? What if I never get better? What if my life is just this endless void? What if I never get to feel anything else than what I'm feeling now?

The flow of thoughts is getting faster and I'm starting to panic, to have an anxiety attack. So, I close my eyes and try to feel what is real around me. To feel what my therapist said once to me and anchored me to reality and not in my thoughts.

I stumble trying to leave the bathtub and when I get in front of the mirror I'm shaking so much that I accidentally drop a bottle of perfume.

"Baz." I hear Fiona yelling my name and then knocking like crazy at the door. I even had heard that she was in the flat. "Open this right now."

I take a towel to cover me and go open the door. Fiona is almost pale when she sees me, then she looks at my arms and then throws her arms around me.

"Are you okay?" She sounds so worried that at the same moment I feel guilty for making this to her.

"I'm fine," I say, but I'm already crying. "I was not trying anything, I just dropped the perfume," I explain, but she still doesn't let me go. "I'm sorry Fiona. I'm so sorry for making your life so hard, it would be so much easier if -" She hugs me tighter.

"Don't you dare to finish this sentence. I don’t care how hard it is. I just care about you.” She lets me go and makes me look at her. “Are you sure you are okay?”

“I’m - I’m me.” I shrug. “I’m okay enough to not do that again.” We both look at the marks on my wrist.

“Promise me, if you think that way again -” She doesn’t finish.

“I will tell you.” She hugs me again. “Sometimes the thought passes through my mind, but it’s just that. A thought.” I look at her and see that she is looking sadly at me.

“I wish I could take all of that away from you.”

“Me too.”

We stay in silence for some seconds, until Fiona lets me go and wipe my tears.

“Let’s go,” she says to me. “go get dressed and let’s watch a movie. And eat a lot of chocolate.” She smiles and I try to smile back.

I slept better tonight. I don’t know why exactly, but maybe my night with Fiona helped me feel better. I don’t dream about anything, which is very good.

The next day I woke up not wanting to stay inside the flat the whole day, the walls were suffocating me, so I had to get out. I tell Fiona that I’m leaving and then I go. I see some people staring at me when I take the tube, but I ignore them. It was easier to ignore the curious looks that people shoot at me.

I end up sitting on a bench at Hyde Park, just watching people around me. Just appreciating the silence in my mind, when I hear someone.

“Baz.” I look at my right and see Snow coming in my direction.

At the same moment, I get nervous. Snow never talked to me, not directly. Not that I ever gave him a chance since I always run when the meetings are over.

“I thought it was you.” He smiles at me as if we were old mates. “Can I sit with you?” I nod shortly. “It’s great to see you here, I always try to talk to you, but you run fast.” He smiles again and I look away. “I’m Simon by the way,” It suits him. “It's weird that I have known you for all these months but we don’t know each other's names. I mean you didn't know mine.” He keeps waiting for an answer, but I don’t know what to say, so I stay quiet. “I just want to say to you that you can share with the group your story, no one will judge you.”

“I’m not worried about that.” I finally say and he smiles.

“You do speak. I was wondering if your voice was the same as on TV.” I looked away again, it was too hard to stare at those blue eyes so close. “Then why don't you say anything? It’s been months since you started to show at the group. If you don’t want to talk then why keep going?”

“Because my aunt asked me too,” I tell the truth. “And I like to listen.” I shrug.

“Okay. But it would be nice if you talked to someone, you would feel better.”

“I have a therapist.”

“That’s good. You don’t like to talk in public then?”

“Sort of. It’s not the public itself. I just don’t want to keep spreading my story around.” I explain.

“If you want, you could tell me. I’m not gonna judge you or tell someone, I just want to know you, to help you.” He hasn’t stopped looking at me since he sat by my side.

“I don’t -” I shake my head. "I grew up in a place where you don't talk and don't feel, and if you do, you keep inside you until it goes away. Talking to my therapist it's too much already."

“That doesn’t sound healthy.” He says, only then looking away, to the people around us. “Don’t you think you would feel better if you talked about what happened? With someone other than your therapist?” His eyes are on me again.

“You know what happened. Everyone does.” I shrug like I don’t care, but I do. I hate what the media did with me.

“No. I know what the others think that happened. I don’t truly know what happened. And I wanted to hear from you.” I clench my teeth avoiding his gaze. “I’m not gonna judge you, I’m not here to judge, I’m here to help.” He repeats.

“Why do you want to help me so badly?” I look at him and see myself locked in a blue ocean.

“Because you need help, I see that, even if you don’t want to show it. And I feel something -” He looks to his feet and then to me. I think no one looked at me with as much intensity as him right now. “I know I don’t know you, but I feel like I do, and I want to know more.” I don’t allow myself to think about the other meaning these words could have. “And I want to help you. So, let me. You don’t need to do everything by yourself. Sometimes it’s good to have people around you, to help you.” I already feel the tears burning my eyes and the shame coming across my face. “I don’t want to force you to tell anything, but I really think you shouldn’t keep to yourself.”

I think for some time. I never told any of what happened to me to another person besides my therapist, but for some reason, I trusted Simon and I wanted to tell him.

“I guess I always was different from the other kids,” I start, seeing that I caught his attention. “but I think everything started when I was eight. My mother was killed by some men who wanted to steal her car.” I swallow hard remembering. “I was with her, and she was trying to protect me, but that irritated the men who shot her twice.” I feel the tears wetting my cheeks. “I was put into therapy, but after some months I didn't want to keep going and my father didn't care.”

I stay in silence thinking through those memories, but Simon doesn’t pressure me, he just stays quiet, waiting for me.

“My father changed a lot after too. He became another person, and it’s funny that even though it has been sixteen years, I still remember how it was before. And I miss it. I miss how it was before.” I clear my throat before I keep going, it's incredible how easy it is to talk to him. “I grew up and my aunt started to put me at show business until I got cast for my first role at a movie when I was fourteen, and I was introduced to so many things that I got lost.”

I stop again, trying to remember the things that I most want to forget.

“I was fifteen when I drank alcohol for the first time, and I didn't know back then, but it was a path that I couldn't come back. It took a year and a half for my aunt to notice that something was wrong, and I was put in rehab for the first time. It was only for some months, and they were able to cover the media, but it didn't make any difference to me. Once I got out, I got back to that world. I used to be drunk 24 hours a day, and people started to notice, but not enough to prove anything. My aunt again put me aside and relocated me to another rehab. At this second one, it was where I met my first boyfriend. He sounded perfect. He looked like the perfect rebellion I wanted. The freedom from the cage I was locked in. I ignored all the red flags. All the bad indications about him. I gave all of myself to that relationship, even though I haven’t enough to give, and at the end of it, there was nothing left of me.”

I take another moment to breathe and to try to suffocate a sob. I didn't know it would be so hard to remember all of it.

“He left the rehab three weeks before me. Once I got out I thought he wouldn't come after me, but he did. I passed through the terrible experience to come out to my family and the media, but it wasn’t so bad because I had him. But as I was trying to be sober, to try to have a normal life, he kept drinking and using drugs, and he started to drag me with him as well. The aggressive behaviour only came months after.”

“He hurt you?” Simon interrupts for the first time. I look at him and see that his eyes are watering up and he looks truly concerned.

“Not at first. At first, it was only bad words. Some offensive jokes. Hurtful things. Things I was already thinking but that he made it worse. But eventually, it came into physical violence. In many different ways. Again it took months for someone to notice. And again my aunt was the one who saw and who saved me. Because even though I know, I knew it was wrong and it was an abusive relationship, I thought I deserved it. I thought that I was having exactly what I deserved. And part of me still thinks.” I wipe the tears that keep falling. “When we got into our home after my aunt saved me from his house, I locked myself in my bedroom.” I look at the scars on my wrist. “It was the first time I tried to kill myself.”

I close my eyes and feel Simon’s hand on top of mine, his thumb brushing my knuckles and then my wrist and the scars in there. He goes back to my hand and squeezes it, giving me the strength to keep going.

“When I woke up, I was already in rehab again. It was the longest, until then, that I had stayed, but once I left I promised that I would be better, but some months after I left, my ex went public to tell everything about me, in a twisted way of course. It was terrible, it ended my career. The bad thoughts, the emptiness inside me came back and I almost had an overdose, on purpose. It was the last time I tried. Fiona, my aunt, begged me, cried like I never saw it before, asking me to change, to seek for help. That’s why I went to the group.” I look at Simon and see that he was crying too. Not like me, but still crying.

We keep in silence for some time. I’m still sobbing, and Simon is still holding my hand.

“I’m sorry that all of this happened to you.” His thumb brushes the back of my hand. “But I’m glad you have someone as your aunt in your life. Someone to count on it.”

“I just destroyed her life.” I shake my head.

“Don’t say this.”

“But it’s true. This has been happening since I was a kid and never got better. I already had been through rehab, different therapists, different pills and nothing ever worked. I’m not getting any better and my aunt deserves better.”

He shakes his head and opens his mouth to answer, but closes it. He seems to think before looking at me again.

“Do you want to get a coffee?”

“What?” I look at him again.

“A coffee?” He says again.

“Why?”

“Because I want to keep talking to you, and with this cold, a coffee would be great.” He squeezes my hand.

“I don’t -” I close my eyes and shake my head. “I don’t think it’s a great idea, it has been a couple of years since my career ended, but still these days people like to talk about me, and the people around me. They would judge you.” He shrugs.

“I don’t care. I want to keep talking to you, I like to talk with you." He smiles a bit.

"Even after what I just said?"

"Even after what you just said." He stands. "Come on, I want to prove that you are wrong.” He extends his hand to me.

"How?" I raise my eyebrow at him.

"By telling you my story." I'm still in doubt, but I take his hand and we leave.

Simon chooses to stop in a coffee close to the park and it's a relief to feel the warmth of the place. I order my favorite drink, Pumpkin Mocha Breve and Simon asks for tea.

"I thought you wanted a coffee," I say after he makes his order and he laughs.

"Changed my mind." He shrugs. "Baz, before I tell you what I want to tell you, I just wanted to say that I'm really sorry for everything that happened with you, and what the media did to you. And I know that everything seems impossible now, impossible to see a happy future in the middle of everything, but it's not." He takes my hand across the table. I like his touch.

"I’m in therapy for some time now, your words won't change anything." He shrugs again.

"Maybe. But it's worth the shot right?" He smiles in a way that makes my knees weak. Luckily I'm not standing.

"I still don't know why you want to help me." I shake my head. Before he could reply, a waiter came with our drinks.

"Because I was in your place before. And I admit that I was curious about you since the first day you appeared." His cheeks get a lovely tone of red.

"Why? I mean, they talked about me for a long time on the internet and all." I frown.

"Yeah, but we can't trust in everything the media tells us." He stops for a second biting his bottom lip. "And I had a crush on you since you appeared in your first movie." He blushes even more.

"Really?" I feel my cheeks getting warmer.

"Yeah, I know it's probably silly, every girl or boy around our age already had a crush on you."

I open my mouth to say that I don't care about other people, only him. But that wouldn't be fair to him, to be attached to someone like me, so I shut my mouth and he starts talking again.

"Anyway, everything started when I was born actually. My parents were young when they had me, they had just finished school. They were dating for a few months when my mother got pregnant, and my father at first didn't want to have me, but something made him change his mind and he proposed to my mother, making a thousand promises. When her parents found out, they put her out of home, saying that she was bringing shame to the family. After that, things got worse, because my father thought they would have the help of her parents, and they didn't get a place to live our job or anything like this. My dad got a job first, then my mom and then they found a place to live.”

Simon plays with his cup, I see even though he looks okay now, what he is telling me, still bothers him.

“But everything was different from what my dad pictured, he was getting angrier each day more until he started to drink. I was only a couple of months old when he hit my mother the first time. It was only a slap but didn't stop at it. As I was growing up, I watched my dad hit my mother over and over again, until she had to stop working because people were starting to suspect. He never had laid a finger on me, because she didn't let it, but he had other ways to punish me when I annoyed him too much."

His eyes still are not looking in mine like before, but I see tears on it.

"Usually he would let me starve, he used to forbid me from even getting in the kitchen, and the same was for my mother. Only when I was desperate, crying too much he would let me eat again. Until one day, this punishment wasn't enough. My mom was out, buying food, I was nine, and I already knew that I had to take care of everything I did around my dad. I accidentally broke a glass that was in the sink. He was already more than drunk, and my mom wasn't there to help me.”

I feel my heart clenching while I listen and imagine a little Simon living like this, and predicting what he was about to say.

“I don't remember much, but some minutes later my mother came back, she saw me and she screamed. It was terrifying. She jumped on my father and started to punch him, but he was stronger and was on top of her in a second."

He stops again, and it's my turn to squeeze his hand.

"Usually, he stopped when she was bleeding too much, or when he saw that she was crying too hard. But this time he didn't stop. Not on time at least. The next thing I remember, we were at the hospital and my dad was saying that some guys tried to rob me and my mother. I don't know if the people in the hospital believed it, but they took me to a room to check my wounds, and my mother was sent to another place. A doctor came sometime later to tell me that my mother didn't survive." Tears are falling freely from his eyes now.

"I'm so sorry." I lean so I can try to wipe his tears. I can't even imagine that my father killing my mother. Despite everything my father is, I know he truly loved my mother.

"Yeah." He clears his throat before continuing. "I was terribly sad and scared about living alone with him again. I just spent the night in the hospital, the other day was my mother's funeral, and my dad really looked sad. Regretting his actions. But after we went home, he got drunk again and later was blaming me for her death. That time I hadn't anyone to help me."

He looks at me for a second but then looks down again, avoiding my gaze.

"That was the first time he left marks on me." He points at a long scar on his chin. "This happened that day. And kept happening, until they started noticing at school. My dad was arrested and I got thrown into an orphanage. I lived there for almost three years until my dad was released. His lawyer was able to make him leave, as long as he would attend a therapist and I got back living with him."

"They sent you back?" I ask surprised, as he nods. "Why?"

"My dad made a whole show wanting me back and saying he was changed. Anyway," he shrugs. "I got back, and he seemed a changed man. He was thoughtful and caring, didn't drink anything else, was always trying to make me happy, and to earn my forgiveness, but I always knew that I would never forgive him." He shakes his head.

I would never guess something like that had happened with him. I want to hug him so badly right now.

"Three years passed and everything was alright. My father never had even raised a voice to me again and kept doing everything for me. Until another day," he laughs, but there is no humour on it. "I was fifteen already, and I was starting to figure it out that I was gay because I had a huge crush on a friend of mine and I knew he was gay. So, one day we were in a park near my house and we were talking until he kissed me. Unfortunately, my dad was passing by and saw it." His shoulders tense up.

I squeeze his hand again, wanting to show that I was still here, listening. And I want to say that I knew how that was. How terrifying it is to find out that who you are, makes people mad. Including the people who are supposed to love you.

"He was waiting for me when I came home and the next thing I remember was waking up in a hospital. My therapist said I blocked out everything that happened that day, and that's why I don't remember anything." He shrugs again. I already had noticed that he does that a lot. "My father was arrested again, without a chance of coming out this time, and I went back to the orphanages after I left the hospital. After that, I started to use violence to release my anger, so I was thrown between orphanages until I was 18 and couldn't stay there anymore.”

He stops talking for a minute, drinks his tea, and wipes his cheeks with the back of his hand. Then, he takes a deep breath and keeps going.

“I got a job and met Penny, my best friend, and started to share a flat with her, my life was finally getting on track but I was not feeling happy, I was not feeling anything. I had my first boyfriend at this time and just like yours, he wasn't any good. Penny barely knew me, but she saw I was not okay. She tried to help me, but I didn't want any help. Months passed like that until Penny almost forced me to go to a therapist. I didn't say anything for the first 6 sessions. A day before my seventh session, my boyfriend at that time got drunk and it was just like when I was a kid again.”

I think all the time that my ex-boyfriend did that to me. How many times had I felt that way? Simon felt that way for a good part of his life. How was he still able to smile and be happy?

“He hit me once and Penny came home. She is stupidly brave so she didn't get intimidated by him and threw him away. I cried on her shoulder for almost the whole night." He looks at me, and for the first time, I see all the pain that it was behind those happy eyes. "I woke up in the middle of the night and went to my bedroom. I sat on the floor, crying my eyes out wanting to know why all of that shit was happening with me. I thought that I must deserve it, that I was a bad person and was getting what I deserve." He pulls gently his hand from mine and turns his wrists up and I see light scars there.

I feel my tears falling in my cheeks. I never would guess that Simon also had been through that. That terrible feeling that made you think that end your life was the answer to all the pain.

"I try to release some of that pain I was feeling, but of course I couldn't. Penny found me, called an ambulance and when I woke up I knew I had to change." He stops to wipe his tears.

"I'm sorry, I never thought you had been through something like that." He shrugs again.

"Some days after, I left the hospital and went back to therapy. I talked more than never, and some months later my therapist told me about group therapy. I didn't get better in days, it was years until I could talk about what happened with me, and to feel happy, truly happy, but even today, there are still some days that I just want to lay down and cry." I brush the marks on his wrists and feel his warm skin against my cold fingers.

"You always seem so happy," I say even though I know it’s stupid, not everyone who has depression it’s sad all the time.

"In most of the days, I am." He turns his hand again, so he can hold mine. "I didn't tell all of this for you to pity me, Baz. Our stories are different, we went through terrible things that marked us forever. I just want to show to you that it is okay if you are not feeling okay now. But this won't stay like this forever and it may take some time yet, but soon, you will feel a little better, and then a little more, until one day you will feel happy again and good about yourself. Just have faith in you."

"This is just so much to think about."

"I know it is." He looks at his phone. "Shit, I have to go, but I wanted to see you again in our next meeting okay?" He asks. "You don't need to say anything if you don't want to. And I promise that I will keep your story with me." I nod to him.

"I will be there." I look at him in time to see him smiling.

"Great." He starts to stand, but stops and sits again. "I - When I said before that I had a crush on you, I - well -" He rubs the back of his neck and the blush is back to his cheeks. "I still have, you know." He smiles a bit. "And I would love to ask you out any time, but as I said, I have been where you are now and I know you are not ready to be with someone. You need to learn how to live with yourself before adding someone else in your life, so if you want I can wait until you are ready."

"Why would you? You could choose someone without these problems. It would be easier."

"Maybe. But I don't like anything that comes easier. And as I said, I like you, since I saw you for the first time. And like you even more now, knowing how much you have been through. You are very brave, even if you don't believe it."

"Okay, I -" I breathe deeper, thinking about what he said. Have faith. "I kinda like you too." I feel the blood rushing in my cheeks. Simon's smile gets wider.

"That - That's great." We keep looking at each other for some seconds. He's still smiling when his phone rings. "I really need to go, but I'll look for you next week." Before I can answer, he puts his phone in my hands. "Give me your number, please." I even think before I start to put my number in his phone. "Okay, I'm going then." He stands and I stand with him. "Thank you for trusting in me, I know it is very hard to tell everything, but thank you."

"Thank you for listening. And for telling your story too, it gave me a lot to think about."

We leave the coffee together. Then we stand in front of each other, not knowing how to say goodbye.

"I'll text you, okay?" He asks me and I nod. Of course, it was okay. "Then, I'm leaving." He smiles again while his cheeks blush one more time. He leans in my direction and gives a kiss on my cheek. "Goodbye, Baz."

"Goodbye, Simon." He gives me one last smile and turns, walking away from me.

I walk in the other direction, ready to go home. There are so many things to think about. I was still surprised by what Simon told me. He had a terrible childhood. And some experiences close to mine, and he looked okay. He looked happy. He smiled more in that conversation than I did in one year.

Maybe there was a salvation to me after all. Maybe, like Simon said, in the future, I would feel better, I would feel anything other than this void inside me. Maybe I wasn't trying enough. Maybe I wasn't ready for that.

And the other thing that didn't leave my mind was the last things Simon said to me. Despite everything I had told him, he still likes me and wanted to go out with me. And he was willing to wait until I was ready to be with someone. He was right about that, I am not ready to date someone yet.

And I want to. I want to have a future. I want to be happy and to be with other people. I want more than what I have today. And for the first time, I wanted for myself and no one else.

I'm walking in the tube station when my phone rings, I look at it and see a text from an unknown number.

**(11:24):** I hope it's okay to text you already.

**(11:24):** I loved to meet you today.

**(11:24):** And I won't forget what we talked about. I hope you don't forget it either.

**(11:25):** I wish a wonderful day to you.

**(11:25):** It's Simon, by the way.

It's impossible not to smile at his texts. And then I stop. What was the last time that I had smiled only because I was feeling happy? I couldn't remember.

**Baz (11:27):** It was great to meet you too.

**Baz (11:27):** I won't forget what you said to me.

I put my phone in my pocket already thinking again. What could I do to get better? I was already in therapy, in group therapy, and taking pills. What else should I do? I was a bit better than ten months ago, but it was almost nothing.

When I walk into my flat, Fiona is in there watching something on TV.

"Hey," she looks at me. "I was starting to wonder where you were."

"I just went for a walk." I sit by her side. "Fiona?" She turns to me. "I was thinking, maybe I should get help. A real help." She opens her mouth, but I cut her. "I'm doing a lot of things, but nothing is helping and I'm tired of waiting for me to get better. I don't want to live like this anymore." I feel my eyes burning again.

"What do you want to do then? Go to an asylum?"

"I was thinking in one of these places that you get help 24 hours a day, like a retreat or something like that. I could stay some time and see if it helps."

"What made you think like this?"

"I talked with someone from the group and some things he said, gave me hope that I could get better. And I want to try. I don't know if it'll work, but I feel that I need to try."

Fiona takes my hands and I look at her and see that she was also crying.

"Okay." She smiles at me. "I will look for someplace where you can go. I am very happy that you want to try." She hugs me and I let her comfort me. "I am very proud of you."

For the second time of the day, I smile with pure happiness and hope.

**.....**

The days start to pass faster as Fiona and I make our research about what places I could go and then make everything ready for me to leave. We choose one place a little far from London. I'll be going in a couple of days, and will stay there until they think I'm ready.

Simon and I exchange some texts, but I haven't told him yet about that. I wanted to tell him in person. I think he deserves it since it was because of what he told me that made me take this decision. And because the time he will need to wait might be longer than he thought, and he deserves a chance to change his mind.

I'm packing some things when I see that I'm already late for the group meeting. I try to hurry, but when I get to the old building, the people are already leaving and Simon is organizing the chairs.

Some people smile at me when I pass, but I am too focused on Simon. I walk until where he is and notice that I am more nervous than I thought. Simon is so concentrated on what he is doing that he doesn't see me coming.

"Hey," I say, immediately taking his attention. Once he sees me, he smiles.

"Hey, I thought you had given up." He rubs his neck and I see he was nervous too.

"No, I lost time." He nods. "But I wanted to talk to you." He indicates the chair behind me and sits beside that one. "I will not come to the next meetings. At least not for a while."

"Oh." He nods, but he seems disappointed.

"After our talk, I thought a lot about everything you said. And I realized that I was not trying hard enough. I was doing all of this to my aunt, but I never did it to myself." He is looking at me, in that way that made my heart skip a beat. "I am leaving for a retreat for me to take care of my mental health, and I will be away for some months." His eyes illuminate. "It's almost like rehab, but for mental issues. I will have people with me all the time, and will have therapy with different professionals."

"Baz, that's great." He smiles again.

"Yeah, you were right. I was not able to see a happy future, I was not able to see a future at all, but I don't want that. I want more than what I have today, more than what I feel today." I pull that thin line of courage inside me and take his hand into mine. "Thank you." He is still smiling. "What you said to me, made me think for real for the first time."

"This leaves me very happy Baz." I look down at our hands and my hair falls in my face.

"And I was thinking about what you said after, about asking me out. I would Iove to go out with you, but you were right too, I am not ready for any of that now, and I don't want to ask you to wait for me because it wouldn't be fair with you -" Simon cuts me by putting my hair behind my ear.

"I decide what is fair to me, and I don't care about waiting." I feel my cheeks blushing under his intense eyes.

"You don't?"

"I already waited ten months only to talk to you." He laughs. "I like you Baz, and I want you to be okay. To be in peace with your mind, and this decision you took is great. It will help you a lot." I nod.

"I hope so."

"I believe in you, and you should too." He squeezes my hand. "I will be right here when you come back. You are worth waiting."

"Thank you." I met his blue eyes again. "I will come here when I come back." He smiles again. "I should go, I'm leaving in two days and there's a lot to do." He nods and we stand.

"Goodbye, Baz. I hope you find your happiness." He hugs me and it feels so good to have him around me. "I'll count the days until you come back."

"Goodbye, Simon. I will too." I feel myself smiling as I breathe his scent one last time.

He lets me go, and I see his eyes are shining with tears. He gives me one more goodbye and one more kiss on my right cheek, and then I turn to leave. When I am at the door, I turn again and see him still looking at me. I look at him one more time before really leaving.

I really hope that the next time I come here, I will feel different. Someone better, to myself and to the others around me. Including the beautiful man with blue eyes.

_ Seven months later … _

I couldn't believe that I was finally getting out. Not that the place was terrible, but I miss London. And Fiona. And my friends. And … Well, everything, really.

The first weeks into the treatment were extremely hard. Being away from everything and everyone I knew, it was terrible, especially when I had to deal with my worst thoughts and my terrible memories. But things started to get better after the second month.

I was making therapy with three different therapists, and I was more open, willing, to accept what they were saying to me. And after that things got easier.

I am not healed. You don't just get healed from depression, but I am a lot better. I could feel things other than the void that I was feeling before, and some things I couldn't face before, today it was easier to deal with it.

The bad thoughts, the ones who made me doubt myself, and tried to make me do terrible things, were very rare now. And hardly I thought about killing myself, and when I did, I was able to stop. And this time not because of my aunt, but because of me.

I still have a long way in front of me. I still take pills, and I will have to keep going to a therapist, maybe for the rest of my life, but I don't care. For the first time in years, I was feeling okay about myself. For the first time I could see something in my future that worthed all the trouble.

Fiona couldn't pick me, so she sent a car that would take me to our flat. During all the ride I kept thinking about the other person that I was trying too hard not to think about during all those months.

I missed Simon more than I thought I would and I couldn't stop wondering if he was still waiting for me. The last time I spoke with him was when we said goodbye. I don't think he is still waiting, seven months it’s too much. But deeply I hope he is.

I still don't know if I am ready to be with someone else, but I want to try. I want him, more than I ever wanted anyone.

I am so deep inside my head that I don't pay attention to where the driver is going, and only see that it is not my flat when he stops.

"I think you are in the wrong place," I say but then look to the same old building that I went to weekly for ten months.

"Miss Pitch asked me to deliver you this." The driver handles me a piece of paper.

_ Baz, _

_ I am dying to see you again, but I guess you left some unfinished business before you left. Go after your golden boy, and then come home to me. _

_ With all my love, _

_ Fiona. _

I laugh at her note. I have no idea how she found out about Simon, I never told her. But Fiona is capable of anything, so I shouldn't get impressed.

I look at my phone and see that the meeting should be over in some minutes. I wait in the car for a couple of minutes, but then after breathing deeply, I leave and slowly walk into the building.

Someone is talking, so I lean into the wall and wait. I try to hide from Simon because I still don't want him to see me, and it's when I see him.

He looks even hotter than before. His hair is shining more and his eyes look different, more beautiful. I almost sigh looking at him, and I don't pay attention at all to what they are talking about.

When the meeting is over, I hide behind the wall, and only when I see the people leaving, I take the courage to go there.

There are two people still talking, but they are walking to the door, so in a couple of minutes Simon is alone with me. He has his back turned to me and, just like seven months ago, he is organizing the chairs.

"Hi." My voice sounds louder. He tenses up and turns to me quickly.

"Baz." He says surprised. And then he smiles, and it's better than I remember. He takes a step but stops like he doesn't know if he can. So, I take a step too.

"I told you I would come back here." I smile too and then he is rushing to me and in a second I feel his arms around my neck, hugging me.

"I missed you." He says, and my heart melts.

"I missed you too," I confess.

"This is so weird." He says looking at me. "You're really here." He almost giggles. "Your aunt told me you were coming out today, but I didn't want to have hopes that you would come here."

"How do you know my aunt?" I ask curiously.

"I - well -" He rubs his neck. "I wanted to know if you were okay, so I looked for her." He shrugs. "You look so much better."

"I am. And it's thanks to you." I smile again. "I thought about you a lot in those months, even when I tried not to."

"Me too."

"I am not good yet, not like you. I still have a lot of bad days, but now there are more good days than before. And I feel that before we begin anything I should tell you this. I don't know if I ever will be totally fine or happy, but I'm trying to and I want that." He smiles warmly at me.

"I know it's a rough path, but if you let me, then I would love to be by your side and help you."

"I want to." I nod.

"Great."

Then he leans to me and in the next second, his lips are on top of mine. I feel like the time is stopping around us. His lips are soft and warm, and his fingers are tracing my neck and then my hair.

Simon's kiss is passionate and urgent, but also sweet and caring. I could melt in his arms now. I am still in love with him. I am more in love with him now than before. And he wants this. He wants me.

"Could I take you to that date I mentioned at that time?" He smiles against my lips and I smile against his.

"Yes, please." I kissed him this time. "But first I have to go home. Fiona sent me here, but she wants me back there to spoil me." He laughs.

"We can go tomorrow." He says, but I shake my head.

"Come with me. We already waited seven months for this, I'm not waiting anymore." He smiles once again and touches my face.

"Let's go then."

I take his hand and we leave, ready to start a future that we don't know, but that, at least, I am looking forward to seeing. To live it.

For the first time, I am curious about it.

For the first time, I want to see.

For the first time, I really want to live.

**Author's Note:**

> I know there is a lot of angst, but I hope that the sweet end made it better.  
> I didn't want to make this only a story about Simon and Baz, but a Baz story, that's why I kept the Pov on him, and why I let the romance a little to the side. I thought it was better to make a story about healing and everything else.  
> I hope you all have enjoyed it.  
> Please, leave kudos and comments so I can keep coming and improving.  
> See you soon ;)


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